My question focused on the heterogeneity of the LGBTQ community and the significance of ephemeral place-making for the community. Ghaziani asserts that one cannot fully understand urban sexualities without shifting the conversation away from “spatial singularity” and the assumption that “queer life is curiously located in one part of the city.” The common narrative expresses a concentration of queer life within the specific, established gayborhood within a city, but this assumption generalizes the queer population as well as homogenizes their experiences. The emphasis on gayborhoods in cities correlates with the use of queer culture for entertainment and business. As discussed during last Monday’s class and Orne’s texts, gayborhoods are becoming more like “Gay Disneylands” as cities emphasize “going-out” and entertainment through queer culture. Gayborhoods have become less of places of residence. In fact, although the capitalization of queer culture has increased, less and less of the residents in the gayborhoods are queer. The use of gayborhoods as attractions and places to “safari” therefore takes away from the identity and safety they once provided for queer people.
One major generalization is that these gayborhoods and the institutions within them (ex. gay bars) are inclusive of all queer people. However, queer subgroups such as queer women and queer people of color do not necessarily integrate into these spaces. For example, in class we learned that gay bars were racially segregated in the past. Likewise, the assumption that these places are becoming less significant now because of greater acceptance of the LGBTQ community also arises when generalizing the experiences of gay, white males. According to Ghaziani, a solution to this assumption is to conceptualize sexuality in cities with cultural archipelagos that represent different subgroups of the LGBTQ community with their own distinct spaces. Cultural archipelagos explain the rise of ephemeral queer pop-ups because pop-ups give these subgroups the opportunity to create their own, culturally significant places.
In my question, I wondered how queer pop-ups could avoid becoming sources of entertainment like other queer spaces have become in the past. Gay bars and gayborhoods are not necessarily the only victims of this phenomenon. For example, although events such as pride parades symbolize the strength and solidarity of the LGBTQ community and its allies, one can make the argument that certain participants characterize them as “go-to events” rather than queer place-making. This perspective enables the exploitation of such culturally significant events. Because queer pop-ups are specific to certain subgroups, it is possible that they are inclusive in practice but exclude those with the potential of exploiting them for the purpose of entertainment. However, even queer pop-ups have limitations. For example, those who are able to successfully organize a pop-up are those with social and economic capital. Therefore, is it possible for there to be a fully inclusive space for queer people? Despite the limitations, queer pop-ups provide spaces specific to marginalized queer subgroups, catalyzing unique queer place-making.
I also pondered how the ephemerality of queer pop-ups differs from the ephemerality of festivals. The ephemerality of festivals form a divide between these events and the culture and people of the cities, but I would argue that the ephemerality of queer pop-ups contributes to their identities as spaces for queer people. The pop-ups are unique in their spaces as well as their times and represent the fact that queer people can make inclusive places for themselves without having an established space. Manveer also made an interesting point in class that queer pop-ups are designed to be more frequent then events like festivals. Because pop-ups are events that queer people can look forward to periodically, they produce a happy medium between long-standing gay bars and annual festivals.
Your response hits on a major issue we have noticed throughout our classes: minority neighborhoods becoming sources of entertainment and consumption. Historically Hispanic and Black neighborhoods have become places for White middle-class newcomers to experience “authentic culture.” In “Gay Disneylands,” we saw how the LGBTQ community has started to become commodified with gay bars and neighborhoods turning into sources of entertainment for newcomers. This transition from a safe neighborhood to a commercialized venue is troublesome, especially as these traditionally LGBTQ-friendly neighborhoods become slowly more homogenized and erodes the cultural significance of those areas.
Queer-pop ups, as you have mentioned before, are inclusive and open in practice and do exclude those who try to exploit them for consumerist means. However, these pop-ups suffer because it relies on the social and economic capital of the few organizers, limiting their outreach. Unlike central, firm locations such as gay bars, which offer continuity of spatial power and persistence in a neighborhood, pops ups suffer from their ephemeralness. The temporary nature of these pop-ups makes them hard to exploit, but conversely, manufactures exclusivity because they have to be made by a few and depend on the organizers’ outreach. It limits other queer voices, possibly those with less social and economic capital, with having a stronger say on how these events take place. But, as you have stated, the more frequent nature of pop-ups does provide “a happy medium between long-standing gay bars and annual festivals.” Still, one has to wonder if there could be different forms of expressions that assert queer spatial capital and presence in the city in a more permanent matter.
Jessica, in your question, you ask how queer pop-ups can avoid becoming sources of entertainment and spaces for outsiders “to go on safari.” Due to the typical nature of queer pop-ups being organized and attended by marginalized members of the LGBTQ+ community, this risk is especially relevant. There exists a blurred line, however, between being allies to pop-up attendees and intruding on their attempts at place-making. Many “outside” attendees could argue that they are not commodifying LGBTQ+ culture or browsing ; rather, they may insist that they are simply acting as allies and supporting greater inclusion in the community. I’m curious: what constitutes appropriate advocacy for better acceptance and inclusion of LGBTQ+ folk? Are certain spaces more acceptable than others to attend by straight folk or cis, White, privileged LGBTQ+ members? How can pop-ups be open and visible enough to allow its marginalized members to announce their legitimate presence in the community, while also preventing heterogeneous and privileged demographics from asserting their presence?
Jessica, the concerns you raise regarding queer pop-ups becoming sources of entertainment are valid. This phenomenon distorts the overarching mission of queer pop-ups, making it more difficult for said ephemeral spaces to act as vehicles of self-expression and liberation. I would argue preventing the appropriation of queer pop-ups requires organizers to explicitly advertise the purpose and meaning of the event. Educating individuals about the purpose of the event not only attracts the marginalized groups the event seeks to serve but also prevent the pop up from being a source of entertainment.
Jessica, I found your comparison of pop-ups to festivals to be very useful. Festivals are often designed with the purpose of entertainment under economic exploitation. However, the very nature of queer pop-ups themselves is to cater to specific communities and their wants/needs. In this scope, it becomes harder for casual visitors to easily enjoy such nuanced events.
And even if they do happen to find access and interest in such an event, the ephemeral nature of queer pop-ups allows its target audience of attendees to quickly push back against any encroachments made by casual tourists/allies. Like with the example of the two men kissing on the street in front of the heterosexual family unit, the attendees were able to quickly find a voice with which to defend themselves because this ephemeral space was made specifically for them. Not only did the two men defend their presence and rights, but other attendees around them were able to quickly and effectively speak up (or in this case, kiss) in solidarity with them.
Queer pop-ups tend to empower their attendees in ways that may be harder to establish and maintain within a singular permanent institution or neighborhood.